


Tell Me A Tale - Three Sentence Fanfics

by Selkie_de_Suzie



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: AU, Angst, Drabbles, Fluff, Genderswap, Humor, Potionless - Freeform, Smutty Makeouts, Unresolved Sexual Tension, butterfly bog
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 07:19:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3683097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selkie_de_Suzie/pseuds/Selkie_de_Suzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Strange Magic prompts I received at my Tumblr for the Three Sentence Fanfic meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the prompts I received while doing this seriously fun FanFic Ask Meme. Flagrant abuse of what actually constitutes as three sentences =) I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them!

**Potionless, Space Pirates AU:**

 

Lasers pierce the hull of Marianne’s ship and Dawn is so desperately afraid - she’s not like her sister, not a fierce pirate captain or even that good with a standard plasma pistol, she only stowed away to make sure Marianne didn’t do anything too foolishly brave. 

 

“Oh God, Sunny, what are we even doing here, I can’t do this, I don’t know how to fight at all, _oh God I’m so scared_ -!”

 

A hand, familiar and warm, grabs hers and she looks into comforting brown eyes, eyes that practically say  _“Don’t worry about a thing, Dawn, you’ve got me”,_ and even as plasma blasts shatter her eardrums, her heart feels lighter.

* * *

 

**Butterfly Bog, Bog Protecting Marianne:**

 

His response was automatic, curling his body around hers, shielding her from the scaly, slithering beast, and he feels his heart thud when she looks up at him with a snarl on her lips and a wounded look in her eyes. 

 

“I can take care of myself,” she murmurs, the snarl dropping at his expression, and he realizes what she thinks his action means, and _oh gods, Marianne, it’s not like that at all._

 

“I know that…” he murmurs back, and strokes the fine line of her cheek, and she stares up at him with those dark, beguiling eyes that he is so willing to drown in, “…but that doesn’t mean we can’t take care of each other.”

* * *

 

**Butterfly Bog, College AU:**

 

“Just so we’re clear -, ” Marianne manages to get out, even as he’s peeling off her blouse, even as her boots are scuffing up his office chair, even as he’s twining fingers into her hair and biting his way down her throat in a way that makes her toes curl, “ - I’m not screwing you to get a better grade or anything, this is not some kind of bullshit cliché, you just happen to be my professor -”

 

“Which is very well, as you’ve got the highest grade in the class,” he grinds out, eyes squeezing shut as she bites at his ear and tugs at his tie, pulling him down to where she lays reclined on his desk, spread out on term papers with her rockstar hair and her steel-and-stardust smile. 

 

“What grade does Roland have -” she begins to ask, but he covers her mouth with his and she laughs until the way he rolls his hips against hers make her moan and plead and scream.  

* * *

 

**Butterfly Bog, 1920s Archaeology AU/Mummy AU:**

 

“How the bloody hell - **_whack_** \- does a some Princess playing at archeology - **_whack_** \- look at an age old scroll called the _Book of the Sodding Dead - **splat** \- and decides it’s alright to read out loud?!”_

 

Marianne glared at the grim and snarky and furious Guide she had been forced to hire, livid that she was torn equal parts between utter frustration at his sarcasm, fury at herself for reading that wretched scroll, horror at the undead they now fought in the ancient tomb, thankfulness at his proficiency in combat, and the faint roll of heat she felt as she watched him in his shirtsleeves, beating the tar out of those undead wretches. 

 

“I am not just _‘some Princess’_ , you lout,” she yelled back, decapitating a corpse with a shovel before it could tackle her, “I’M -  ** _whack_** \- A - **_slice_** \- _LIBRARIAN!_ _”_

* * *

 

**Butterfly Bog Pet Store AU:**

 

Dawn was crooning over some kittens while helping other customers, so Marianne felt completely justified by wandering over to where he stood, even though after three days of seeing him slip into the store she was beginning to suspect he wasn’t here for the critters, and yeah, while she would normally call him a creeper for hanging out after she had helped his mom pick out some lovebirds, after three days of watching him out of the corner of her eye…Marianne wasn’t sure she was entirely guiltless of creeping on him. 

 

She slowly walked up to him, and he glanced at her before looking away quickly, a faint flush to his cheeks as he spoke, “Sorry, just…um, looking at these guys, never really cared for anything with fur, even if these are, uh, pretty hideous -”

 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Marianne hummed thoughtfully and bit back a smile before continuing, “I’ve always thought cockroaches were seriously misunderstood creatures.” 

* * *

 

**Butterfly Bog, Proposal:**

 

“Everyone keeps calling me the Queen, you know,” Marianne stretches hard, sighing in deep contentment as she hears the little pops and crunches of her muscles, her body loose and plaint and utterly blissed out as she lays next to him after a particularly brilliant bout of lovemaking, “I’ve tried to tell the goblins that I can’t decide stuff for them since I don’t have that power and yeah, it’s sweet of them to come to me, but it’s the truth, I’m not the Queen here.”

 

He curls around her and she sighs happily at the contact, warm and rough against her bare skin, loving how he covers her, protects her so completely, and she sleepily closes her eyes and smiles softly as he brushes a kiss to her shoulder, but then he speaks, his voice soft and rough and hesitant. 

 

“Would…would you like to be?” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Butterfly Bog/Potionless, Superhero AU:**

 

“ _Please, you don’t need to be the villain, you can still choose the right side_ \- isn’t that the line you heroes always love to try, Butterfly Beauty?”

 

“No, that’s what _Dawn_ says, _I_ just want to see your head on a stick, and for the record - ” Marianne tore free of his mooks and flipped out of the way, going for his head with a butterfly kick that had him dodging but oh _god_ , why did a super villain who was so arrogant he had made _King_  part of his name have to be such a legitimate threat, and _why_ did she think she could handle going after him alone, _why why why_ , “ - the name isn’t Butterfly Beauty, jackass -”

 

He caught her next punch and pinned her against the wall and grinned at her, his smile mocking and maybe just a bit heated and he had her pinned with his body, everything was pressing up against her, and _oh no_ _, oh dammit no_ , Dawn and her had been warned about this by the League, No Flirting With Villains, not even if it was a joke, not even if the villains were snarky and amazing fighters and had seriously swoon worthy accents and achingly blue eyes –

 

“Butterfly Beauty, Tough Girl, whatever you call yourself, doesn’t make a difference…” he murmured, and she felt her traitorous heart give a little heady _thud_ as she met his gaze, taunting and heated and full of something far more dangerous than any fight, “…you still don’t stand a chance.” 

* * *

 

**Potionless, Genderbent AU:**

 

She knows it’s hopeless, knows that he is beyond her, both metaphorically and literally, and he stands so tall she has to look up at him, has to squint to see his face, sunlight framing his wild golden hair, his guileless blue eyes, and he might as well be her Sun, what with how he lights up her world and how unreachable he’ll always be to the little Elf…

 

Sunny knows that people think that she’s got a big voice, a big personality for her little form, full of zest and happiness and all of it packed as tight as powder in a firecracker, but that big voice goes shy and soft when she sees how the youngest Fairy Prince flits above her while she is - and always will be - so close to the ground. 

 

Daniel smiles at her, the soft light of dawn framing him, and it feels like sunlight on her soul, and she’s tries to let go of the soft little pang of heartache, and simply be happy that she has him as a friend.  

* * *

 

**Butterfly Bog, Domestic:**

 

“Paperwork, rain, and tea - not a very adventurous evening, I’m afraid.”

 

Marianne rolled her eyes at him, having heard her father say multiple times that ruling a kingdom, while a noble occupation, was also a long hard slog, and while she was inclined to agree what with how the documents in front of her made her eyes nearly cross from all the details… she also couldn’t really summon up a bad mood, what with how she was nestled in a snug little nest of moss blankets, nice and warm as rain pattered throughout the Forest outside, and she now in possession of a hefty mug of tea which she had the utterly delightful suspicion that Bog brewed himself. 

 

“Hmmm, no, not very adventurous at all…” she agreed, before making room for him, and when he settled next to her with his own scrolls and parchments to go over, she draped the blanket across his shoulders and gave him a soft kiss on his cheek before continuing in a soft murmur, “…I like it.” 

* * *

 

**Roland/Flea, Modern AU:**

 

Roland grinned at his little darlin’ adoringly, and lifted his glass before drawling out his toast, the booze he had already consumed that evening making his accent even thicker than usual: “To three months worth of dee-light an’ carnal fantasies comin’ true with you, honeybun - I love ya, my little itch of a darlin’!”

 

The peck she gave him quickly devolved into an incredibly enthusiastic match of tonsil hockey, and Bog and Marianne could only stare across the restaurants’ dining room as her ex-fiance and his former suitor ended up across a table, the handsome blonde business man clearly intent on putting his tongue as deep as he could into the mouth of the tiny, scratchy, wizened looking…thing, while the rest of the crowd watched in horrified fascination. 

 

Marianne felt her stomach give a nauseous jolt and was only able to breathe out a faint, “Do I even want to know -?” , before Bog cut her off with an empathetic “ ** _No_**.”    

* * *

 

**Potionless, Victorian AU:**

 

“Miss Fairfield, I wouldn’t wish to presume that you would…no, not good at all, uh…Miss Fairfield, while I realize that a fellow of my… _class_ should not dare to think a lady such as yourself, I mean…while I realize that I am in your father’s employ and a mere errand boy at that, and while it is indeed presumptuous to ask you, as a friend, or…perhaps more, uh - no, not yet- to ask you _as a friend_ to share your dance card with someone like me, who is…rather short in stature compared to you, but…oh drat it all!…Miss Fairfield - ”

 

“Miss Fairfield,” a soft voice speaks, and Sunny whirls around, and his heart is in his throat, and what with the torturously awful cravat he has on he nearly chokes when he sees Miss Dawn Fairfield approach him, resplendent in her evening gown of pale summer blue and gold, her golden locks curled up, her eyes gentle and warm and teasing, and he can barely focus on her words as she continues to speak, “is currently wondering why her dearest friend is hiding behind a potted plant while the orchestra is playing a simply divine waltz.”

 

Sunny tries to answer, he truly does, but she simply smiles at him and holds out a gloved hand, before murmuring, sincerity in every one of her lovely features, “Miss Fairfield is wondering if the dear Mr. Elvesly would venture out from his hiding place and honor her with a dance.”  

* * *

 

**ButterflyBog, Murder Mystery AU:**

 

Marianne purses her lips, aware that she has a history of misjudging people based on their looks - a certain cad and ex-fiance comes to mind - but still levels a glare at the grim man in front her, a tall, dark and certainly not conventionally handsome gent whom she is certain can tell her the whereabouts of her sister…with the proper motivation, of course. 

 

“Once again, Mister King - ” the bossy little dame grits out, cocking that pistol at him and Bog is quite certain he should not find a woman all too willing to shoot him in cold blood this distractingly attractive, what with her brown eyes smoldering with fire and resolve and her lips a deep plum color that makes him wonder what they taste like, “ - Will you be telling me where Dawn is, or do I need to alert the police to the mysterious disappearance of one Madame Sugar Plum, last seen at _your_ club?”

 

He glares at her - of _course_ she would have heard about Plum - before he growls, “Put away that peashooter, and then you and I can have ourselves a talk.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That Roland/Flea prompt has got to be the crackiest thing I've ever written.


	3. Chapter 3

**Marianne/Roland, What Could Have Been AU:**

 

“Roland, we’ve talked about this, we need to rule as a team,” Marianne whispers urgently, knowing there’s no way that their guest - whoever they may be - can hear them outside of the throne room doors, but Roland is already grinning at her, shaking his head, and god, his smile used to make her sigh and melt, now it just makes her feel dismissed and little and a Queen isn’t _supposed_ to feel powerless, having a husband _shouldn’t_ make her feel so alone.

 

“Marianne, my love, my Queen, my little buttercup, a King needs to lead by example…” he murmurs to her, tapping her chin and giving her a soulful look and she feels her heart twist, not from love, but from pain, from knowing that she’s being manipulated, knowing she’s being soothed like some spoilt child, “…besides, this fellow is from the Dark Forest, and anyone from there is a dirty rotten Goblin, and the King there is -”

 

“The King,” a rough voice growls out at the end of the hall, and both Roland and Marianne jump, and Marianne feels her heart seize as she takes in the tall, dark, and scaly creature glaring at the both of them with sharp blue eyes, “is wondering why the King and Queen of the Fairies have kept him waiting for so long.” 

* * *

 

**Butterfly Bog, Sorcerer & Knight AU:**

 

Roland’s eyes widen as she aims her sword for his throat, her face cool even as her eyes blaze with triumph and long-denied retribution, and his glorious shining armor seems so brittle, powerless against Bog’s dark magic holding him trapped against the wall, and his voice is almost a whine: “B-but you always said Knights were supposed to defeat Sorcerers, that they were supposed to punish evil!”

 

Marianne lets the edge of her blade almost glide across Roland’s throat, and smiles softly as she feels Bog step up behind her, protective but knowing she needs to do this, that this victory belongs to her, even as his curse makes Roland’s chain mail twist and burn against his skin, and his growl is almost proud when he answers Roland, “She _has_ defeated me…” - he pauses to give her cheek a soft kiss, and Roland’s eyes grow almost comically large - “…in a manner of speaking.” 

 

“As for punishing evil…” Marianne murmurs, savoring the moment, the delicious irony of it all, remembering how her false fiancé had dismissed her desires for knighthood, and now here they are, “…why do you think you’re the one with the blade against his neck?”  

* * *

 

**Butterfly Bog, High School AU:**

 

“I can’t _believe_ that you actually have the balls to do this, but aren’t-”, Marianne paused as Dawn’s voice carrying up in a graceful curl of music to where they crouched on the auditorium’s catwalk, her soprano bright and true and vastly outshining Roland’s voice, before continuing in a hushed voice, apprehension and horrified delight in her tone, “ - aren’t you afraid I might tell my Dad?” 

 

“I don’t think the Principal’s daughter would want to implicate herself in a prank like this,” he replied, raising an eyebrow at her, and she knew that if her father ever got wind that she was hanging out with him, the Senior whose snarky and moody reputation alone marked him as a ne’er-do-well in her father’s books, she would have hell to pay –

 

\-  but then he grinned at her and oh, wow, how it lit up his face (Marianne realized that she had to be careful, couldn’t start getting a crush, this was just mischief, this was just fun, nothing more) before he murmured, his rough accent doing _something_ to her insides, “besides, theater pranks from above, mayhem behind the scenes…think of it as a tribute to the play.”

 

Marianne snorted at that, but her grin was a good as a “ _Let’s do this!”_ _,_ and Bog heaved the bucket up onto the rails, careful not to tip it too soon - seriously, she has _no_ idea how he was able to find so much Nair - and with a truly wicked grin and a muttered “ _He’s here, the Phantom of the Opera,”_ the bucket was sent hurtling down and  -

 

_Thunk!_

 

Marianne’s grin was utterly blissful when she heard it hit its target and the following wail of pain and distress from Roland, before she murmured to Bog, “Dawn will be a great Christine, but it’s gonna be a bit silly having a bald Raoul running around stage.”  

* * *

 

**Butterfly Bog, First Time One Sees The Other Cry:**

 

He first thinks that she’s in pain, shuddering and gasping and clutching at her self, hunched over in agony beneath the tree, and the swell of wild fear for her and animalistic rage at whoever - whatever - has done this to her drowns out any other senses as he flies to her, but when he grabs her - “Bog, what - how long have you been there?!” - and pulls her close, concern making his gestures rough, he sees no wounds on her, no bruises nor blood, nothing except…

 

…nothing except tears that trail down her face, glimmering in the moonlight, and he stops because  _Marianne doesn’t cry_ , such a thing seems carved in stone to him, and he can only stare at her and she looks down, away from him, so miserable and so lost even as he holds her, his grip on her lessening from a clutch of fear to a clasp of comfort. 

 

“Dad…” she murmurs, her voice catching, and he sees a single little drop fall from her chin onto her collarbone, shining like a jewel against the paleness of her skin, “…Dad and I had a fight, and I just…I couldn’t let them see…I have to be strong, I _always_ have to be strong, all the time, and then he -” she broke off, her voice crumbling into a sob, and she turns away from him, wiping at her eyes fiercely. 

 

“Marianne…” He doesn’t even think, just pulls her to him, cradling her, and he feels her little gasps of pain against his scarred up heart, her tears falling and tracing along and under the seams and segments of his scales, hot little paths seeping into him - _she’s invaded every bit of him_ \- and he clumsily wipes at her tears, claws catching at her skin, before he can speak again, his own voice full of soft pain for her, “Marianne, love…this doesn’t make you less strong…nothing ever could.” 

* * *

 

**Bog Butterfly, England/Scotland Civil War AU:**

 

“Even if ye are innocent, tho’ English ne’er are, tha’ still doesn’t explain why ye were roamin’ the Highlands in the pitch of night - a dangerous place for a maid, be she sassenach or Scot, poor or - _supposedly_ \- Princess…” and the Chieftain’s voice seems to emerge from the shadows of the hall like a beast from its den, rough and full of the quiet promise of danger, and Marianne knows she _must_ be careful, even as she burns at the injustice as the dim hall echoes with derisive laughter at his words. 

 

“Please, I care not for any of that, I told you, I was looking for my sister, they say rebels took her into the Forest as ransom when they heard we were traveling alone, that we might fetch a ransom - !”, Marianne, cold and damp and dirty and certainly not looking very royal at all, shivers and it’s _madness_ , utter  _madness_ that she’s here, and she’s burning with humiliation that she was so easily captured by these wild things after escaping the last of those rebels, if only she had her sword with her, but she hasn’t seen it seen she last saw Father and if Dawn… _oh, Dawn, please be safe…_

 

“Th’ English would ne’er bother wi’ a ransom for highborn lasses playing at royalty, _M’Lady_ , but…if ye hold rank, an’ truly desire yer sister’s return…” He stands, and walks out of the shadow and into the firelight, and – 

 

\- and he’s so much taller than her, tall and lean and powerful and dark, and she feels her heart give a jolt when he looks down at her with the bluest eyes she has ever seen, cold and calculating as they take her in, and he looks _wild_ , so very _wild_ , but if it means Dawn can be returned than Marianne feels she can summon up some wildness of her own –

 

Marianne quickly focuses on his words, his voice a rough rasp of a threat, and her heart gives a sickening thud as she hears his terms: “…put tha’ royal blood ta use and turn spy for us on the English nobility, _or ye will never see yer sister again._ _”_

* * *

 

**Stuff and Thang, Pastry Shop AU:**

 

“- And we’ll put the cheesecakes _here_ , and we can put the éclairs over by the window, since they look so pretty, and when we finally get the _cream brew-lee_ figured out, we can make one of those little displays that Miss Dawn has always wanted to do and -”

 

“It’s pronounced _crème brûlée_ , Thang,” Stuff caught a dollop of cream off of one the little cakes that Dawn had laying about the petite shop, and licked it off a stubby finger before rolling her eyes at her weedy little dork of boyfriend and continuing, “if you want to make it in the cutthroat world of pastry and frosting, you seriously need to start pronouncing words the right way, _especially_ the French ones.” 

 

Thang gasped at the short, plump and decidedly unimpressed looking brunette - and he still couldn’t believe Stuff was his girlfriend, _he had an actual girlfriend!_ \- his eyes large and horrified behind his glasses as he watched her lick her fingers unconcernedly, before squealing out,  _“MISS DAWN SAYS THAT’S UNSANITARY!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "What Could Have Been AU" has already inspired two other fanfics that I'll be positing here soon, "So Shatters Crowns and Hearts" and "A Touch Too Far". 
> 
> I'm thinking that the England/Scotland Civil War prompt may very well end up inspiring a separate fanfic as well, but we'll see...


End file.
